Page 152 of Hot Mess
“Yeah? You do all this stuff for them, too?” At the moment, she was sitting on my bedroom floor with my socks in balls around her, organizing them by activity. Snowboarding socks, mountain biking socks, workout socks.
“If they pay me to,” she said.
“So you’re saying I’m paying you overtime tonight to organize my socks?”
“Well, I could slow down. But that would just push our date back, wouldn’t it?” She smiled up at me again.
Jesus Christ… She sat there on my floor with my clothes spread out around her, in her little cutoffs, with her shirt hanging off her shoulder, and fuck if I was gonna complain about whatever it cost me.
“Organize away. I’ll be back at nine-fifty-nine,” I told her as I left. “Don’t leave until I get here.”
“What if you’re late?” she called after me.
“I won’t be.”
* * *
When I walked back in the door—at nine-forty-seven—my place was all cozy. Danica had my new lamps on, glowing in the living room and bedroom. She had the candles she’d given me—there were five of them now—burning on a metal tray on the new coffee table.
And even though the candles were scented, the whole place smelled faintly of her.
Danica was just coming out of the guest bathroom. “Hey, good timing. I’m all done for the night.”
“Yeah? You’re done?” I let my eyes wander down her curves. “Fucking finally.”
“For tonight,” she repeated.
“Well, then. Let me see you out.” I reached for her, hooking my arm around her waist and yanking her against me. Then I laid one on her.
I kissed her so hard and so good, she didn’t seem to know what was coming. Neither did I, exactly. Maybe the handful of beers I had with dinner made the decision for me, because my tongue was already in her mouth, and after a tiny hesitation, she kissed me back.
So what did I care if we were violating her professional boundaries? Her mouth didn’t seem to care. Her tongue was all over mine, even as she tried half-heartedly to fend me off with her soft hands.
“I’ll just… have to come back tomorrow night… with a few final items…” she told me between kisses.
Then she managed to slither away—and right out the door.
“Good night!” she called down the hallway as I stood in my doorway with my dick throbbing, watching her hightail it to the elevator. She’d even managed to grab up some of the cardboard and wrapping that some of my new stuff had been delivered in, and took an armload of it with her.
Considerate.
She pressed the elevator button and stood there smiling at me, looking flushed.
I leaned on the doorframe and fucked her with my eyes.
“You don’t have to go.”
“See you tomorrow, Mr. Player,” she said politely.
I rolled my eyes. Back to the Mr. Player shit?
She dashed onto the elevator and disappeared.
I went back inside and adjusted my dick in my jeans. Fucking painful.
This chick was torturing me… and I couldn’t even be pissed at her for it. She had all her adorable little professional principles, and I was trying to respect them.
I didn’t respect them, honestly, but I kinda admired her for trying to stick to them.
